All the physical exams and lab data ruled out physical disorders. Conclusion; my vomits were considered psychological, vomits induced by a mental problem.
- I'm not mad, doctor -I rushed to say.
- Nobody has said that, miss Polley. We have made all the relevant tests and we lay down that you suffer nothing physical. Your stomach works perfectly. Could you describe me how the vomits manifest?
- They use to appear after fifteen minutes of eating.
- The three meals?
- Yes. But lately I only have breakfast and eat something before going to bed for fear.
- How long have you been like this?
- At first it was just randomly but it had been one week vomiting all the time.
- Fine.
- Will I get better, doctor?
- I'm giving you an antivomiting to avoid them. We must try not losing any more weight. Do you suffer depression?
I nodded swallowing hard. It was the first time I called it that. For me it was a thick, deeply rooted sadness, like a ton of luggage over my body which I couldn't take off. Yes, I suppose you could call it depression.
- Are you following a treatment?
- No, I'm just going twice a week to the psychologist.
- You should increase that, miss Polley. Going to the psychiatrist...
- I don't want a treatment. I'm recovering with no drugs in my blood.
There were just a few things clear in my life. Another one was I needed to be free from that dullness which numbed my senses.
The next day after admitting in the emergency department they released me. There's nothing they could do with me at health standard. I was seriously dehydrated owed to the continuous vomits and they injected me fluids to balance me again. Mary was very scared and did what she thought right but in any emergency department cannot cure you from depression. Mary spent the night with me and directly she went to work.
- I gotta go, Eli. I must work. The doctor has said you probably will be released.
- I'm sorry about my words to you. I'm such an ungrateful...
- Forget about that now. I just want you remember you are not alone. We are taking care of you all together.
The loneliness one could feel in an emergency department was frightening. The smell of drugs, the rushing pace of the workers, the boxes curtains opening and closing, the whines, the coughs, the deliriums. I was sitting on my bed, with my clothes on. I grabbed my bag and watched my bony knees clothed in a pair of black stockings. I rubbed my eyes like a child asking for a little nap, yawning hopelessly.
- Hey, what is my mousy thinking?
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